Citara
09-06-2006, 04:55 PM
The breeze blew gently through her thick armor plating as Citara Harte stood atop a hill overlooking a vast wasteland. Her eyes were seemingly fixed on object much too small or far for me to see. She was regal, as regal as they come. I knew little about her, we had only just met, but there was something about her. There was something different about her from normal folk. She seemed to be her own spirit, free from greed and a lust for power, which was rare on Aden, especially at that time.
“Over there,” she said in a soft but strong voice, pointing into the distance. My Elf eyes struggled to find what she had been pointing too. “Wait.” A few moments later, over a far off hill I could see something, or someone. “There he is,” she added after a few moments.
“Who is ‘He’?” I asked resting my staff on my shoulder. “Friend of yours?”
“An old friend of mine. He was a noble man, good by all accounts. He was a much better knight then I could ever hope to be.” She mentioned still staring off into the distance.
“Was?” I looked over trying to catch her eyes, but they remained unmoved from her objective. “What do you mean, was?”
“I mean to say that he used to be.” She laid her sword and shield on the ground, but kept watching. “He made a few mistakes, took with the wrong clan. Now, he’s just barely repented of his sins, which is no easy task.”
“And why are we waiting for him here?” I inquired. She hadn’t told me anything. When we were in Gludin she asked for a Cleric of some sort to help her in the Wastelands, but she never said what she needed help with.
“Because this is where he is.” I sat down on the ground, a little angry with her for not giving me a direct answer. I looked off in the distance behind, and could hear a constant, rapid t*******. “Do you hear that?” She reached for her sword and shield and looked off to the west. “There!”
She had pointed to a Strider, charger at high speed across the plain. “Yes, who is that?” I said, calm at first.
“Oreon, run!” she called crisply across the land. Just noticing the Strider, the man began to run fast towards us, axe and shield in hand. The Strider drew nearer and nearer to him, he could not outrun such a beast, especially in all of his armor. “Come!” And with no other words, she plunged onto the battlefield. I muttered a spell of Wind Walk as she ran to meet him.
I could now see a Dark Elf female rode the Strider, a Mystic of some kind. I saw a small orb forming in front of the rider, and I cried as loud as I could, “Citara, look out!” But I was too late. Just as I had said this, the mage launched a twister at Citara, knocking her to the ground. The Strider bore its spiked beak between Oreon’s legs, thrusting him high into the air. He fell to the ground unconscious or dead, I could not tell. Citara came to her feet, shaking the dust from her shield. She was left handed, she had told me. And I just noticed that she held her shield with her left hand, and her sword with her right. Maybe I heard wrong. Either way, it didn’t matter. Another orb flew towards Citara, this time she threw her shield in front of her blocking most of the attack.
The Dark Elf leapt off her Strider and landed on her feet. The Strider stood, menacing behind her. “Fool,” she said simply, inching her way to Citara, who stood bravely facing the young mystic. She muttered a few words that I could not understand, and a shadow began to form in front of her.
“Citara, look out!” I shouted a second time. She was obviously not familiar with black magic. She did not realize that what was being summoned was a Phantom of great power.
“Don’t worry, Eldar,” she said looking at me. “Stay out of this and I won’t hurt you.” She smiled at me, and then turned back to Citara. I was afraid; I did know what I should do. I didn’t know what I could do. I was not powerful; I had barely become an Oracle.
As if reading my thoughts and deciding for me, Citara replied, “He will fight by my side, and I by his.” I smiled at the thought, then remembered the seriousness of the situation.
“I admire your bravery, young ones. But bravery in a world of power does not warrant anything. Bravery without power is dead.”
“But power without bravery is even worse,” Citara added, jumping roughly a foot toward the Dark Elf. She jumped backward, afraid of the sudden advance.
“Fools, the both of you!” She muttered a few more words and the shadow advanced on Citara. She turned to me, and spoke loudly, so I could hear what she was saying. Before long I felt a tingly feeling, a tired feeling, and I slowly drifted out of consciousness.
I only wish I were able to help Citara. I do not know exactly what transpired while I was unconscious, but I do know that Citara put up quite a fight. My eyes opened slowly, and I could faintly see the silhouette of a woman clad in armor draped over that of a man in full armor, weeping.
“What happened?” I asked starting to my feet.
“He’s nearly dead, and I thought I had lost you,” she said holding the man firmly in her arms. His breathing was irregular, his heartbeat faint.
“May I?” I asked taking him from her.
“Of course, Eldar.” She said, letting him go to my care.
For the next few minutes I sat muttering every spell that I could think of, and nothing seemed to cure his wounds. They were black wounds, to terrible for my powers to heal. Near the end of his life, I muttered basic spells that could only ease the pain and bring no further aid. He passed away in my arms, a redeemed knight, who had fallen for the last time.
“I’m sorry, Citara. I tried all that I could,” I consoled her. “If there was anything I could do, I would have.” Her eyes were transfixed on the horizon. A tear flowed from her eye, her strong face looking constantly afar off. A slight quiver ran through her body. “His wounds were much too deep for me too heal,” I started, but she interrupted me by raising her hand.
She stood, motionless, keeping her hand raised to me. “I have only one comfort, I tried. I have only one regret, I failed.” With those words being the last spoken before our initial parting, we stood, faces to the wind, silent. A tear ran down my face as her words sank in. After a long pause, she turned to me, her red hair nearly matching the sky behind the setting sun. She stretched her hand, I took it, and we parted, each our own way into the vast wasteland.
“Over there,” she said in a soft but strong voice, pointing into the distance. My Elf eyes struggled to find what she had been pointing too. “Wait.” A few moments later, over a far off hill I could see something, or someone. “There he is,” she added after a few moments.
“Who is ‘He’?” I asked resting my staff on my shoulder. “Friend of yours?”
“An old friend of mine. He was a noble man, good by all accounts. He was a much better knight then I could ever hope to be.” She mentioned still staring off into the distance.
“Was?” I looked over trying to catch her eyes, but they remained unmoved from her objective. “What do you mean, was?”
“I mean to say that he used to be.” She laid her sword and shield on the ground, but kept watching. “He made a few mistakes, took with the wrong clan. Now, he’s just barely repented of his sins, which is no easy task.”
“And why are we waiting for him here?” I inquired. She hadn’t told me anything. When we were in Gludin she asked for a Cleric of some sort to help her in the Wastelands, but she never said what she needed help with.
“Because this is where he is.” I sat down on the ground, a little angry with her for not giving me a direct answer. I looked off in the distance behind, and could hear a constant, rapid t*******. “Do you hear that?” She reached for her sword and shield and looked off to the west. “There!”
She had pointed to a Strider, charger at high speed across the plain. “Yes, who is that?” I said, calm at first.
“Oreon, run!” she called crisply across the land. Just noticing the Strider, the man began to run fast towards us, axe and shield in hand. The Strider drew nearer and nearer to him, he could not outrun such a beast, especially in all of his armor. “Come!” And with no other words, she plunged onto the battlefield. I muttered a spell of Wind Walk as she ran to meet him.
I could now see a Dark Elf female rode the Strider, a Mystic of some kind. I saw a small orb forming in front of the rider, and I cried as loud as I could, “Citara, look out!” But I was too late. Just as I had said this, the mage launched a twister at Citara, knocking her to the ground. The Strider bore its spiked beak between Oreon’s legs, thrusting him high into the air. He fell to the ground unconscious or dead, I could not tell. Citara came to her feet, shaking the dust from her shield. She was left handed, she had told me. And I just noticed that she held her shield with her left hand, and her sword with her right. Maybe I heard wrong. Either way, it didn’t matter. Another orb flew towards Citara, this time she threw her shield in front of her blocking most of the attack.
The Dark Elf leapt off her Strider and landed on her feet. The Strider stood, menacing behind her. “Fool,” she said simply, inching her way to Citara, who stood bravely facing the young mystic. She muttered a few words that I could not understand, and a shadow began to form in front of her.
“Citara, look out!” I shouted a second time. She was obviously not familiar with black magic. She did not realize that what was being summoned was a Phantom of great power.
“Don’t worry, Eldar,” she said looking at me. “Stay out of this and I won’t hurt you.” She smiled at me, and then turned back to Citara. I was afraid; I did know what I should do. I didn’t know what I could do. I was not powerful; I had barely become an Oracle.
As if reading my thoughts and deciding for me, Citara replied, “He will fight by my side, and I by his.” I smiled at the thought, then remembered the seriousness of the situation.
“I admire your bravery, young ones. But bravery in a world of power does not warrant anything. Bravery without power is dead.”
“But power without bravery is even worse,” Citara added, jumping roughly a foot toward the Dark Elf. She jumped backward, afraid of the sudden advance.
“Fools, the both of you!” She muttered a few more words and the shadow advanced on Citara. She turned to me, and spoke loudly, so I could hear what she was saying. Before long I felt a tingly feeling, a tired feeling, and I slowly drifted out of consciousness.
I only wish I were able to help Citara. I do not know exactly what transpired while I was unconscious, but I do know that Citara put up quite a fight. My eyes opened slowly, and I could faintly see the silhouette of a woman clad in armor draped over that of a man in full armor, weeping.
“What happened?” I asked starting to my feet.
“He’s nearly dead, and I thought I had lost you,” she said holding the man firmly in her arms. His breathing was irregular, his heartbeat faint.
“May I?” I asked taking him from her.
“Of course, Eldar.” She said, letting him go to my care.
For the next few minutes I sat muttering every spell that I could think of, and nothing seemed to cure his wounds. They were black wounds, to terrible for my powers to heal. Near the end of his life, I muttered basic spells that could only ease the pain and bring no further aid. He passed away in my arms, a redeemed knight, who had fallen for the last time.
“I’m sorry, Citara. I tried all that I could,” I consoled her. “If there was anything I could do, I would have.” Her eyes were transfixed on the horizon. A tear flowed from her eye, her strong face looking constantly afar off. A slight quiver ran through her body. “His wounds were much too deep for me too heal,” I started, but she interrupted me by raising her hand.
She stood, motionless, keeping her hand raised to me. “I have only one comfort, I tried. I have only one regret, I failed.” With those words being the last spoken before our initial parting, we stood, faces to the wind, silent. A tear ran down my face as her words sank in. After a long pause, she turned to me, her red hair nearly matching the sky behind the setting sun. She stretched her hand, I took it, and we parted, each our own way into the vast wasteland.